The Kid at Christmas There was a kid at Christmas who learned to listen for footsteps before she learned to ask for anything. She knew the sound of wrapping paper, the careful folding, the promises made in advance. She believed in miracles because children are built that way #poetry #poem

The witches equivalent to thoughts and prayers is I’ll light a candle.

How many times must I break my own heart for a fantasy? How many times must I bargain with myself, repeating that it is not enough not that I am not enough? How many times must I let you go before I finally let you go? #poetry #poem

There is a particular grief reserved for those who were always welcome behind closed doors, and nowhere else. I don’t want devotion that survives only in the dark. 1/2 #poem

No amount of rain has ever convinced the ocean it deserved to exist.

Rehearsals You rehearse in private. Mouth it to the empty seats. Say it to the Ferris wheel. Confess it to the dark, where no one interrupts, where courage costs nothing. But spoken aloud, truth becomes the high wire. The lights rise. The band falls silent. The audience leans forward. #poetry #poem

The Convenience Store of People The lights never go out. Someone is always stocking the shelves with fresh faces, straightening smiles, pulling the lonely to the front before they expire marked down and labeled special. #poetry #poem

Real ghosts don’t choose to haunt. They ask for nothing except to be witnessed. A draft at the back of the neck, a photograph turned face down, a door settling into its frame small languages of persistence. #poetry 1/2

A Forgettable Tuesday #poem It come disguised as coffee cooling on the counter, the little dog asleep in a square of sunlight, a familiar road travelled that asks nothing of my courage except to keep driving.

No one warns you that the heart doesn’t always wait for someone else to break it. Sometimes it learns the craft with obsessive devotion… #poetry

And perhaps all we have ever been is brief custodians of love passed on through the endless dark. So if you must disappear and we all must may it never be said that you vanished. May it instead be said that your light simply became too much to ever again fit inside one person. #poetry

We mistake elevation for virtue. We place people on pedestals, then act surprised when gravity remembers them. Perhaps the future shall build differently. Fewer pedestals. More tables. #poetry

The Poet’s Voice The poet keeps a tiny creature beneath the floorboards of the heart. It wakes whenever a poem is born, sniffing the ink asking: Who do you think will care? It counts the empty chairs before the reading begins. #poetry #poets

Beauty a poem. #poetry Beautiful is not a permanent thing. It is the light breaking over a quiet morning, the stillness of a day not yet discovered. A bloom is beautiful precisely because tomorrow it will bruise and wither.

Tides. #poetry She rose and fell like a tide swallowing itself, forever arriving only to erase the evidence she’d been there. As though abundance itself was only another name for the slow certainty of loss.

Beautiful Things. #poetry I still believe in beautiful things. I just don’t expect them anymore. Not because the world convinced me they were impossible, but because absence has a way of teaching the body what the mind refuses to learn.

Life. #poetry Most often
my life comes wearing antlers. It leans against my fence with a grin, asking only for a cup of tea, never mentioning
it has already hidden my house keys inside tomorrow.

The Fae Woman #poetry #myth She smiled like the water smiles inviting, reflecting, concealing the depth beneath. She was crowned with foxglove bells, through her raven hair. She was summoned through monikers because no one dared call her by her name.

Distance We don’t live
in each other’s ordinary. I don’t know which mug you reached for this morning, or whether it rained where you are. #poetry

The loneliness of age. As children, we were celebrated for every inch of becoming. A birthday is filled with people who stopped what they were doing just to say, You made it another year. #poetry

Drowning a Poem #poetry There is a specific shame in being misread when you were, in fact, drowning. Not waving for attention, not performing tragedy, not crafting storms from clear skies. Drowning.

A Bluesky Bedtime Fairy Tale: The Queen Who Collected Skins In a kingdom stitched from dandelion fluffs there lived a Queen who collected skins…. #poetry #writing #fairytales #myth

Life Advice #poetry If I had one piece of advice, it would not be to chase happiness, for happiness is like the weather beautiful, brief, and beyond your command.

Witch’s Serenity Prayer Great Mystery, woven through root and star, Grant me the wisdom to know which tides are mine to ride and which are mine to release. #poetry #sobriety #recovery

A Confession #poetry There is a line Thin as spider silk,
Suspended between imagination
And losing your way. I have walked it barefoot
more than once.

The seams… The knots begin, as they always do, with a single thought pulled loose from the fabric of an ordinary day. Suddenly my mind is connecting catastrophes from patches of the past, running ahead of me. #poetry

A dangerous moment For one dangerous moment, I begin to believe That tomorrow is promised And today matters because of it. But I have learned Even if tomorrow never comes, #poetry

@donkee.bsky.social I loved you like a bomb Gingerly I settled beside you My own internal clockwork Ticking mercilessly I knew that it was only moments Those precious beats In between the dream and waking Before I would destroy us both. (Wasn’t sure if it was a prompt but this happened anyway)

PSA: If you lack even a modicum of respect and instead take the piss out of someone’s attempt to create art, however badly, my friend, you are the problem. Art is not here to be judged it is here to be expressed. Not every brushstroke must be brilliant. 1/3

Wearing a Mona Lisa grin, they smile in knowing, that death is but another word for transformation. They teach us to release what cannot remain, to unclench our fists from what was never ours to keep, and to bow before each new day, revering its feral potential. #poetry #myth #goddesses #witchcraft